


The Rise of Darkness

by Un0rganizedWeird0



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: F/M, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24328336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Un0rganizedWeird0/pseuds/Un0rganizedWeird0
Summary: The Guardians knew Moira Bennet believed because her light on the Globe but they never stopped to think of which one of them she actually believed in until it was too late.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	The Rise of Darkness

Moira Bennet believed in the Easter bunny.  
She believed in the Tooth Fairy.  
She believed in Jack Frost.  
She believed in Santa Claus.  
She believed in the Sandman.

Moira believed because her father Jaime believed in them and for as she could remember she tried to believe as wholeheartedly as her father did in the Guardians of Childhood.

He had told Moira, if she believed enough she could see them for herself but no matter how hard she tried, Moira never saw a Guardian as a child.

Moira’s favorite story was when Jack Frost had made it snow in her father’s bedroom when he was a boy and how he and his friends had stood alongside Jack Frost and the Guardians against the Boogeyman, Pitch Black.

The story had always resonated with Moira for more than the overly enthusiastic manner in which her father told the story and when she was alone, she often thought of Pitch Black and pitied him, all alone in the Underworld.

Moira grew up in a happy home with both parents and her two younger brothers, Levi and Phillip. Still, Moira knew what it was like to feel alone.

Moira played the clarinet in her school band and was right-side hitter for her state championship-winning volleyball team. Moira was well liked by teachers and peers but preferred books to people. She kept to herself as much as she could. She like her mother struggled with bouts of depression.

Moira’s mother Aurora was a beautiful woman with a wide, toothy smile. Moira had inherited her mother’s thick, wavy black hair and pale freckled skin but had her father’s warm hazel eyes. While her brothers had their father’s ruddy brown hair and their mother’s bright green eyes.

Her mother suffered with melancholy that would turned her into a ghost from time to time. Her mother would lock herself away in her bedroom and lay in bed for days, covered in layers of blankets with shuttered windows, where she cried and cursed the cold and dark. But her mother always found her way out of her spells and would come back out with a smile. Her mother’s smiles were like the Sun and her father was always happier too when his wife was better again.

* * *

Moira’s first bout of sadness occurred the summer she’d turned twelve. She had been trapped indoors for over a week because of endless waves of thunderstorms. The flash-floods had closed the roads all across town. The rain came down in sheets with lightning and deafening thunder. During the short reprieves, it was too muddy and wet to do anything fun outdoors.

Levi and Phillip kept busy with video games and with their love of sports, but Moira had taken after their mother. Mother enjoyed solitary hobbies like needlework and crocheting. Moira liked reading and drawing.

A dozen sketchbooks filled her three overfilled bookshelves with years of doodles and there were the seven half-painted canvases tucked away in her closet.

Stuck in her room that grey summer day, Moira grew sad for the first time. She had been sitting at her window seat, the rain prattling against the glass next to her, sketching flowers when the first teardrops had landed on her purple and white lilies.

Moira had stopped her work and stared down at the little wet spots on her paper. She watched as the paper slowly absorbed the moisture and more droplets fell before she lifted a hand to her face and felt her wet cheeks. She stopped her doodling and laid down on her side, bringing her knees up to her chest and making herself as small as she could. Moira watched the rain and the flashes of lightning light up the world outside and felt totally alone for the first time.

She cried in silence and wondered idly which Guardian was responsible for the rain. She wished it would stop, wished it was night so the darkness could conceal all the gloom of the past week.

She’d waited to see if someone would come and find her but no one did. Everyone was in their own little worlds making the best of the rainy day.

Moira closed her eyes and a fresh wave of tears fell from her lashes and whispered, “I know how it feels now. You are not alone today, Pitch Black.”

She’d said his name without thinking but in that one moment, Moira knew what it felt like to be forgotten.

Moira had fallen asleep and it was well after dark when her father woke her and helped her into bed after she’d assured him she wasn’t hungry. She tried not to wonder whether her father hadn’t noticed her puffy eyes and red nose while tucking her in to bed with a kiss to her brow or if he’d simply ignored it.

Alone again in the darkness of her room, Moira felt comfortable and warm. She drowsily fixated on the darkest shadow in the furthest corner of her room. It seemed to grow darker, to move and just as sleep over took her once more she swore for a moment there were an icy pair of eyes staring back at her.

* * *

The years passed, her adolescence went on like any other with sporadic fits of sadness, but average in many ways. On the verge of her eighteenth birthday, she was due to graduate from high school and begin the next chapter of her life but she still had no idea what it was she wanted to do.

Work. University. Travel.

Her possibilities were endless, her father told her.

“Rule the world”, her mother said to her one evening. Moira had smiled at the idea of being a queen.

As the big, wide world began to open up to her, Moira had begun to feel so very small. She hid it from everyone, didn’t want anyone to know or worry about her growing insecurities.

Only at night, alone in the darkness did Moira feel big and powerful. There was nothing in the dark that scared her, there was nothing to hide. She was laid bare in the darkness and her doubts faded into nothing, it felt liberating.

Only in the silence of her dark room did Moira truly feel like she could conquer the world, she could accomplish everything she could dream to do. Like her dreams, she could overcome whatever the darkness threw at her.

Moira’s sleep was mostly, always blissfully dark and silent but sometimes her dreams were vivid, epic adventures.

The shadows of her dreams conjured monsters of all kinds from nothing. The giant, terrifying beasts that crawled out of the ether of her imagination worried her at times but no matter how horrible they were, they never hurt her or tried to deliberately scare her.

The mornings after her strange dreams, Moira would wake and stare towards the furthest corner of her room and tried to remember those eyes she had once seen. She tried remembering their shape and the depth of their blue coldness.

 _It had to have been a dream_ , she always assured herself but even after so many years, the intensity of when the darkness had looked back at her still lingered. The memory of that haunting gaze crept over her skin like oil on water.

Moira had remembered what her father had said about the Guardians. How they were all chosen by the Man in the Moon, and that Pitch Black had been a Guardian too, he had been chosen like all the rest. The Guardian of Fear.

It seemed like an odd center for a Guardian, fear. Fear had its use in the world, it kept people alive when they grew too bold or reckless. Fear would draw any man back, deflate their ego enough to remind them of their mortality. Fear was good in small doses.

She’d heard the story a hundred times, how Pitch Black had wanted to cover the world in darkness. In shadow and nightmare.

Rationally, it would have been terrible to drown the entire world in endless darkness but deep-down Moira felt a ting of excitement at the idea.

The darkness had always soothed her and had given her courage and confidence she had never experienced in the bright light of day.

She wondered idly, from time to time, what Pitch Black did in the Underworld.

* * *

A blizzard had swept in days after Easter holiday. Her father had laughed at the timing of the storm and thanked Jack Frost. Moira and her brothers were happy for the respite from school due to the heavy snowfall.

After breakfast, they had gone out into the yard and her father had started a snowball fight, Levi and Phillip were quick to join in, Moira had squealed with laughter every time she was hit with a snowball, even her mother had joined the fray.

Slowly the snow began to melt and soaked her clothes and when Moira shivered so violently she could no longer shape snowballs, she forfeit and headed inside while her family continued the melee.

Moira peeled off her heavy wet clothes and showered in water so hot it steamed the sliding glass door and mirror of the bathroom. She slipped into her favorite pair of volleyball shorts, a fluffy pair of pink knee-high tube socks and an oversized navy-blue NASA sweatshirt.

She stood at the window of her room which overlooked the backyard and brushed her clean, wet hair back off her face and shoulders until it hung like a winding black river down her back to the bottom hem of her sweater. Her brothers were still chasing each other around the yard, their faces red from the cold and exertion. Her father’s laughter carried all the way to her room and made Moira smile. Her mother stood on the edge of the deck with her back to Moira, her every breath punctuated with a tiny cloud.

Moira stayed at the window, frowning as she wondered about the Guardians. Her father would say Jack Frost would be to blame for this blizzard and Moira silently marveled at her father’s ability to believe so wholeheartedly. She always tried her best to believe and to call upon Jack Frost or Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy but they never came.

The truth was the only Guardian she ever truly believed in was the Boogeyman. Pitch Black had always interested her over the others. Moira would always ask her father to tell her tales of the Guardians that somehow included Pitch Black. She was always careful not to ask too many questions or mention Pitch directly but she always managed to learn something new about the Boogeyman from her father’s tales when he retold his stories, whether by a slip of the tongue or just a forgotten detail from previous tellings. Moira always latched on to those new little tidbits. It was a truth she would never tell her father, could never tell him.

Overhead the clouds grew dark again, another flurry of snow was coming.

Moira’s room grew dark and warm.

There was a shift in the air and a movement from the corner of her eye snapped Moira into attention. She turned away from the window and there in the furthest corner of her room between her closet door and the row of bookshelves, the darkness had gathered and standing in its mist was Pitch Black.

Moira stood stock-still in shock. The hair brush was still in her trembling hand, her whole-body shuddered. She should scream, yell for help or throw herself out of the window but she couldn’t move. Couldn’t find her voice as she stared at the black-robed stranger in her bedroom. The room was eerily silent but for the joyful voices coming from outside, Moira’s breathing was steady despite her heart threating to beat out of her chest.

Pitch stepped forward, the motion so smooth it was like he was gliding. The movement triggered Moira's fight-or-flight instinct and without thinking she threw her brush at him as hard as she could.

He caught it effortlessly. He looked at the hair brush then his piercing eyes flicked up to her and he said, “that is a rude way to welcome a guest”.

His voice was soft and velvety but still it sent a shiver down Moira’s spine.

“Isn’t it rude to enter one’s dwelling without knocking?” Moira countered.

Pitch smirked. “There are no doors to knock on from where I came.”

Moira swallowed the dryness in her mouth.

The sound of her blood rushing in her ears drowned out the noise from the heater vent, of her family playing, of the passing cars beyond the wood fence, of the chirping birds perched on the cables above the roadway.

Pitch walked over to her vanity and placed the hair brush down next to her collection of perfumes before moving over to her bookcase and studying the titles of her leatherbacks.

The Guardians were real and one of them was standing in her bedroom.

Moira tried repeatedly to say something, anything but the words vanished on her tongue.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I’ve come?” Pitch offered idly as he continued to inspect her belongings.

Moira had pressed herself against the window as far from Pitch as she could. She was practically cowering like a frightened animal.

She remembered her father’s story of how he and the Guardians had defeated Pitch. _Moira Bennet was not scared, not of anything, not even her own nightmares. She wasn’t going to be scared of the Boogeyman._ She chanted to herself over and over.

Moira pushed off the wall and lifted her chin, straightened her spine and squared her shoulders. “Yes. Why have you come, Pitch Black?”

Pitch turn to her and gave her his full attention. “I’ve come to meet my last believer.”

Moira blinked in surprise. “That’s impossible.” She shook her head and nearly laughed. “People have nightmares all the time.”

“Experiencing a nightmare only implies the individual fears me but not believes in me.” Pitch clarified.

“How do you know I believe?”

Pitch moved towards the center of the room and the room grew darker. Moira had nowhere to move, the door was behind him now. She stood her ground, keeping her eyes on him, her body loose and ready for anything.

“You told me yourself you believed.” He replied.

Moira shook her head. “No, I said I knew what it was like to be alone.”

Pitch smiled wickedly at her and it lit a fire deep in her belly. In the back of her mind, she knew she shouldn’t feel excited about this, she should scream but her curiosity had the best of her.

“You confirmed your belief in me just now when you threw your hair brush at me.”

Moira’s brows pinched as she took in what he was saying. “So, I believe and I see you. Why does it matter?”

“You matter to me because you believe in me and don’t fear me.”

Moira stared at Pitch, she hadn’t expected his answer. _“You matter”_. Had she ever mattered to anyone? Her parents perhaps but they had never said it out loud. _“You matter”_.

“I’m pretty sure I’m feeling fear right now.” Moira countered.

“Fear, yes but not of me.” Pitch said, taking a step closer to her.

“What- what is it you want with me?” Moira asked nearly breathless, struggling to find her words as her mind raced in a million directions.

“A companion. A partner to be at my side in the darkness.” Pitch said.

Moira could only blink in surprise for a few moments as she tried to make sense of what he was saying, then it clicked. “You want to cover the world in darkness again.” Moira said horrified.

Pitch smiled softly, not denying it. “Your nightmares are like none I have ever experience, Moira. You have brought to life behemoths I couldn’t have imagined in all my eons of existence.”

A shiver ran through Moira at hearing Pitch say her name.

“You want me to create your nightmares?” Moira asked.

Pitch stepped forward again, he was right in front of her now. “Your creations are not monsters, Moira but your children. They wait for your return, they long to see you.”

Moira’s heart was beating so hard in her chest she wouldn't have been surprised if Pitch could hear it. Pitch was standing so close she could feel his sweet-smelling breath on her face. If she wanted she could reach forward and run her hands up his elegantly embroidered black robes. She kept still, her hands firmly at her sides, her eyes on his face. His skin so pale it was nearly grey, his sad eyes like glaciers with flecks of gold throughout.

Moira’s brows pinched. “Who were you before you were chosen by the Man in the Moon?”

A thousand expressions flashed in Pitch’s glaze for a moment before he answered. “I was a man, not of this world but still I was a fool like any other and my ultimate folly sealed my fate.”

“Why should I go with you?” Moira asked, her voice was a whisper.

“I am tired of seeing you alone and I’m tired of being alone.” Pitch answered sadly, his hands coming up to cup her face. His face centimeters from hers. “We can be together and take care of one another. We would never be alone again.”

“I have a family, Pitch.” Moira said, bringing her hands up to wrap around his wrists, his flesh warm against her touch. “I can’t leave without an explanation, I can’t leave knowing I would never see them again.”

“You could come and visit as you please but you would make your home in the Underworld with me.” Pitch said, resting his forehead against hers. “Be my queen, Moira.”

Before Moira could answer, there was a shift in the air. Moira pulled away from Pitch, turned and saw that her window had frosted over. She could no longer hear her family out in the yard. Pitch clicked his tongue in annoyance and let her go. He stepped away and turned to face her door. In the hall beyond the closed door, Moira heard a stampede of footsteps racing closer. The door opened with a boom and gust of freezing wind, the exposed skin of Moira’s legs became instantly covered in goosebumps.

Standing in her doorway was her father with Jack Frost, Toothiana, Santa Claus, the Sandman and Bunnymund. Moira could see them all.

“Hello Jaime. It’s been a while hasn’t it? How have your dreams been of late?” Pitch said in way of greeting.

Her father looked frantic as he looked between her and Pitch.

“Pitch Black, you have no business here.” Santa said in a booming tone, his massive arms crossed over his broad chest.

“It is time you leave, Pitch,” said Bunnymund, a boomerang in each hand.

Pitch smiled. “I was just on my way out but thank you for dropping by to say hello, we should get together more often.” He said sarcastically.

“Pitch.” Jaime said, taking a step forward. “Whatever grudge you hold with me, take it out on me. This is between us. Please leave Moira out of it.”

Moira was shaking now and it had nothing to do with the cold. She had never seen or heard her father so scared.

The shadows in the room grew a shade darker.

“Moira!” Her mother shouted from the hallway before she was pushing her way into the room, around the Guardians. She stopped short when she came to the front of the small assembly.

Her mother’s lovely green eyes grew large and her face paled with horror, but her focus was not on Moira but solely on Pitch Black.

Pitch smiled viciously. “Hello Aurora.” There was something intimate about the way Pitch said her mother’s name, in the way he looked at her.

Moira’s blood froze cold in her veins as she watched her mother’s face morph from dread to rage as she screamed. “No! No! You can’t have her! No!”

Pitch chuckled. “As always, you’re all too late.”

“Pitch, don’t do this!” Jack Frost ordered, his staff held out before him like a weapon.

Moira’s eyes flickered back and forth between her two terrified parents.

Suddenly, the room exploded in a flurry of movements that happened simultaneously and in a matter of a few seconds.

Levi and Phillip shrieked with delight from the hallway at finding the Guardians in their home, unaware of the tragedy unfolding inside their sister’s room. Moira stepped forward and reached out to her mother, who was closest. Both her parents lunged forward, their arms out stretched to grab her. The Guardians all leaped into action towards Pitch. Pitch smoothly stepped back toward Moira as she tried to move around him and grabbed her by the upper arm in a vice-like grip, then the floor vanished beneath Moira’s feet.

Moira fell into darkness with nothing but the echoes of Pitch’s cruel laughter and her parents’ fading screams to follow her into the Underworld.


End file.
